Coalesce

SIX

"Hm. You don't feel too warm, buddy. I'll get you some paracetamol and we'll see if that works, alright?"

Liam feels awful, both physically and otherwise. His head is pounding and his stomach is churning, his eyes are heavy and tired, but mostly, he feels guilty for lying to his Papa now that the anger towards the man has worn off.

He can't bring himself to look up at the man as he sits on the mattress beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder, keeping his face turned slightly into the pillow and humming his response.

Papa doesn't move for a few seconds, hand moving up to tuck his overgrown hair beside his ear gently and staying against his cheek for a moment before he sighs. "Sorry you're feeling so rough, buddy," he says softly.

Liam swallows down the lump of nausea because he's sorry too. He's sorry for getting drunk and lying to his Papa, and he's sorry for not just coming clean about his Dad messaging him the first time it happened because now it feels more complicated somehow.

The mattress moves slightly as the man stands up and quietly walks out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He listens to the low hum of voices out in the living room/kitchen area for a while, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. If this is what alcohol does to a person, then he's never gonna touch the stuff ever again.

Eventually, he fumbles around for his phone and hoists himself up on one elbow, squinting his eyes open to read through his messages.

The group chat with his friends is all but bombarded, and it only makes him feel worse guilt-wise.

Lils
>> text us so we know you're not dead, malik
>> i'll kill you myself if you throw up on me ever again

He winces at that, groaning and flopping back on the bed. He threw up on her? Surely he hadn't. He can't remember that happening.

Come to think of it though, he doesn't remember much from the night before. Thinking too hard about it only makes his head hurt worse so he gives up on it.

Jack
>> u alive?
>> if not then im moving into ur house and stealing ur identity
>> because ur fam is rich, not bc i think ur cool or anything
>> jk plz text back so we know u didn't choke on ur own vom

Harv
>> asshat
>> you're a funny drunk btw
>> never do that again tho

He sighs, embarrassment tainting his cheeks with red, quickly tapping out a reply.

>> sorry, i'm not dead though

Lily's reply comes immediately.

Lils
>> moron

That makes him smile a little at least, though it's short lived when he sees who the remainder of the messages are from. Or rather, he doesn't see because the number is another unknown one.

He can't even bring himself to read them this time, stomach churning from what he doesn't think is just a hangover, setting his phone down on the bed beside him and rolling onto his back, scrubbing his hands down his face and letting out a long breath.

He's had enough of this. He just wants the man to leave him alone instead of trying to come back into his life and mess it all up again.

There's a soft knock on the door and he pushes himself up into a sitting position against his pillows, sighing. "Come in," he mumbles.